Boss I Love To Hate Read online

  Okay. A little over the top there, Brad.

  Plus, this was the guy who had asked me about the Jolly Ranchers in my pocket. I couldn’t have pictured it before today. In my head, Brad was a tough working/dating machine. Today was the first time I had seen him a little softer, with less edge. I guessed his nieces did that to him.

  My phone buzzed next to me, and I groaned. “It’s your uncle. Hurry, eat faster.”

  I started shoveling rice into my mouth like there was a shortage, and Sarah followed suit. When we lifted our heads from our plate, our eyes would meet, and we’d laugh.

  “It’s like he knew we were talking about him.” Her cheeks puffed out, overfilled from rice.

  I let the phone ring three times before I picked up. “Hello?” I crumpled the tin wrapper that had once held my taco and tossed it in my empty bowl of rice.

  “You left without me.” His voice was accusatory, as though I’d committed a crime.

  “Sarah’s a growing girl, and she needs sustenance. You wouldn’t want to be the sole reason that her growth is stunted.” I winked at Sarah. “Plus, I get hangry and need to eat on time.” I reached for Sarah’s napkins and tin wrapper where her burrito had once been in and tossed it in my tray.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  The buzz of cars echoed around him. The honking of horns blared in the background, indicating he was already out of the office.

  “I told you we were going to Gomez’s Burritos.” I stuffed a nacho chip into my mouth. “It’s fine. We are just about done here. I e-mailed you.”

  “Where is that place?”

  “It’s on a side street. You’ll never find it.”

  Sarah eyed my nachos, and I pushed it toward her.

  “Never mind. I’ll find you. I’ll track Sarah’s phone.” Then, he hung up.

  I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. I hated that he had done that. It annoyed the crap out of me.

  “He’s coming.” I dropped my phone and dipped my chip into the most wonderful glop of salsa. “Someone should really teach your uncle some manners.”

  “Uncle Brad?” She snorted. “Yeah, maybe you should be the one to do that. It’s funny how you give it to him right back. I’ve never seen anyone do that—well, besides Uncle Mason.”

  “That’s kind of our relationship.” I reached for another chip.

  If I wasn’t snippy, he’d flirt. I’d seen how he acted with the other women in the office. It was his natural demeanor. I’d bet he had been born a flirt. So, I was rude, showed I wasn’t interested, and he left me alone and kept it strictly professional. For the past two years, that was how it had always been. I just prayed that our deal—my invitation to this wedding—wouldn’t change the dynamic between us.

  Ten minutes later, Brad strolled into the restaurant. Two women sitting in the booth next to us dropped their tacos midair, and their eyes followed Brad, in his crisp navy-blue Armani suit. A suit I’d specifically picked up at the cleaners three days ago.

  He swaggered toward us, tie neatly in place, suit jacket and pants pressed to perfection. One would never guess his morning had gone sideways, except for maybe the scowl on his face.

  “Thomas McCloskey is an a—ape.” He undid his tie, glanced at Sarah, and then plopped down in the booth next to me. “He’s not a very nice person.”

  He meant asshole. I’d worked with this man long enough that I could finish his sentences, which was pretty sad.

  “Where’s my food?” He frowned at the crumbled-up foil on my tray and the half-eaten chips.

  “I was going to pick up your regular—an Italian sandwich—on the way back. I don’t know what type of Mexican food you like.”

  He had picky tastes. I could guess his everyday sandwich and his black morning coffee. Anything out of his routine, I was at a loss.

  I pointed to the mile-long line in front of us. “The line starts there.”

  He could boss me around during work hours, but my lunch was my time, my small reprieve from his tyranny.

  “I thought you were gonna get me lunch.” His scowl grew deeper.

  “Yes, on my way back to the office, like I always do.” I couldn’t remember the last time Brad and I’d had lunch together outside the office. Never. Never in all the time I’d been working for him.

  He took in the booths, the swarm of people standing and eating, the concrete floor, exposed walls, and workers crowded behind the tiny kitchen counter. I knew exactly what he was going to say next, so I beat him to it before he could insult my favorite place to eat in the whole downtown Chicago area.

  “You’ll love this food; trust me.”

  But my comment could not stop his snotty one. “Are you sure this place is up to code with the Board of Health?”

  “It’s no three Michelin star place, but it’s more than fine.” I pulled off my glasses, blew hot breaths on the lenses, and cleaned it off with my sleeve. “If you want to go, we can go.”

  “Uncle Brad …” Sarah started. “It’s one of the best tacos I’ve ever had. Just try it.”

  I stood, ready to leave, but Brad motioned me back to my seat and stood himself.

  “I’m going to get some tacos. Do you guys want anything else?”

  “I’m about to go. Did you want to stay with your uncle, Sarah?”

  My hour lunch was nearly over, and I had to get back to work, but Sarah’s face scrunched up, and she held my hand with sweet desperation.

  “Please stay.”

  “Yeah, Sonia. Stay.” Brad tipped his chin toward the counter. “I’ll be right back—in an hour or so,” he scoffed, noting the line almost out the door.

  “Please,” Sarah repeated, pushing out her lip.

  I remembered the type of conversations that Brad was giving his niece this morning and squeezed her hand right back. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  Fifteen minutes later—not an hour later—Brad had the taco in his mouth, and I’d never heard him praise anything more.

  “I can’t believe I’ve never been here. You’ve been holding out on me, Sonia.”

  I simply smiled.

  He said, “You’re right. This is the best taco I’ve ever had.”

  I responded with, “I’m always right.” Because there were rare occasions when I was ever wrong unless you counted my taste in men.

  “If you are always right …” He stuffed escaping lettuce into his mouth. “… then tell me what to do about Thomas from Titan Printing. He isn’t budging on our deal, our potential buyout of his company. He wants more money, but his company won’t bring back returns for at least a couple of years. And I’m not budging on the price.”

  I blinked at him. He’s asking for my advice? On business? I tapped my fingers against the table. Is there a wrong way or right way to answer this question? I knew nothing about acquisitions, but I could offer honesty.

  “I don’t know anything about business, hostile takeovers, or anything like that. I can imagine that it’s all a money game, but if this guy is like you and your brothers, you care about the people who work for you.”

  He stopped, his taco hanging midair, and intently looked at me.

  I laughed. “Let’s forget the fact that you don’t know anyone’s names, but you care that they are compensated properly, that the Christmas parties and promotional parties continue, and that everyone is happy and morale is high.” I picked off a chip from his plate and stuffed it in my mouth. “That’s why you send those questionnaires all the time.”

  He waved his taco toward his niece. “See, I’m not the mean one after all.”

  “I never said you were. But I think those questionnaires were Uncle Mason’s idea,” Sarah added.

  He pulled at the end of her hair. “Playing favorites again.” Then, he turned to me with that intense look as though my opinion really did matter. “Go ahead. You were saying?”

  I blinked, surprised at his value of my opinion. Then, I cleared my throat and began again. “Well, besides the whole money part,
I’m sure, even though he might be a dick like you said, he can’t possibly be so heartless to not care for the future of his employees who have families to support.” A gush of energy rushed through me as a thought pushed through. “So, next time you talk to him, go with that angle. That, although you can’t promise the employment of every employee, you can guarantee that you would try to place all you could with permanent positions and that we have good benefits at Brisken.”

  He examined me and stopped eating altogether. After a beat, he let out a satisfied smile. “You’re a smart one, you know that?” He pointed to me and then took another bite of his taco. “I knew there was a reason I hired you.”

  “Smartest cookie in the cookie jar.” A flush warmed my cheeks. I wasn’t used to getting compliments, especially from Brad. “And correction, Charles and Mason hired me.”

  Brad’s phone buzzed on the countertop, and the screen read, Worst Sitter. The smile slipped from his face, and he let out an exasperated sigh. “Do I even have to answer this?” He placed his taco on the napkin, the grease of the steak seeping through. He took another napkin, wiped the corner of his mouth, and then picked up. “Annie.”

  No hello. No how are you. With Brad, you got what you got.

  “Oh. So, you couldn’t bring the girls to school this morning, and now, you can’t pick up Mary?” His voice was low, menacing, yet he was smiling. “Mmhmm. Yep. Is that it? Mmhmm.”

  His smile widened, and he reached for his taco. Tiny goose bumps formed on the back of my neck at the evil glint in his eyes.

  I glanced at Sarah, and she sliced her neck with her pointer finger in an off with her head motion.

  “Don’t worry about it.” His tone hitched up in pitch, so un-Brad-like. “I’ll pick up Mary myself. I’ll just cancel my two, three, and four o’clock meetings today. I already canceled my morning meetings because you couldn’t drop them off.” This wasn’t entirely true, but he kept on going anyway. “I’m assuming, since you didn’t do your duties today, tomorrow will be more of the same and the day after that and after that, but it’s okay because you’re fired.” Then, he hung up and retook a bite of his taco, as though nothing had happened.

  My mouth slipped ajar, and Sarah bit her cheek and held her stomach, one second from bursting from laughter.

  “I think I’m going to have to take another one of these tacos to go,” Brad added, unaffected.

  Sarah let out a peal of laughter and collapsed against the booth. “Oh boy.” She cackled. “Uncle Mason is going to be pissed.”

  “I’ll deal with Mason.” Brad turned my way and placed down his food. “Sonia, cancel my afternoon meetings. I hate to do that, but the worst babysitter left me no other option … unless …” He lowered his gaze, almost to a puppy-dog look. Nope, this must be his seductive do whatever I want look. “My favorite secretary and friend wants to do me a huge favor and pick up Mary? Our driver is off Monday afternoons, and I don’t trust anyone else to pick her up.”

  And to think, I had been in such a good mood only minutes earlier.

  He added for good measure, “Then, we can discuss the deal you were talking about earlier.”

  I sighed overly loud. When he put it like that, how could I refuse him? I was the desperate one in this situation. “Fine,” I grumbled.

  He smiled. “Best. Secretary. Ever.” He picked up his taco and took another bite.

  Chapter 7

  Sonia

  After picking up Mary from school, I plugged in the address to their house on my navigation.

  I needed a raise. Seriously, the things that I did for this man …

  I stopped by the guard at the gate, and after he greeted Sarah, he waved for me to pass. I drove past a wall of manicured hedges, all leading down a long path that widened into a circular driveway.

  And holy freaking crap …

  My mouth dropped to the floor and kept on going.

  “Nice house.” I wished I’d sounded normal, but my tone was anything but.

  I had only seen houses like this on television—the ones on my entertainment feed that celebrities bought or sold. Wow de wow. I knew that Brad was a millionaire, but now, this house … was not much of a house. This estate only confirmed how wealthy his family was.

  “Have you lived here all your life?”

  The Brisken brothers kept to themselves. They were private people, and I knew that Brad had a place in the city, but I didn’t know where, nor had I known where Charles lived. Until now.

  “Grandpa and Grandma lived here before everyone moved in,” Sarah said. There was an air of sadness in her tone, which reminded me of all the loss that this family had experienced. Not only had Sarah and Mary lost their mother, but they’d also lost their grandparents, too, in that horrific accident. It’d been all over the late-night news and newspapers.

  I pulled in front of the house and placed the car in park. “Everyone lives here?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Brad and Uncle Mason, too.”

  Mary continued to work on the sucker I had given her when I picked her up from school. The sugar fiend, I remembered Sarah saying. No wonder Brad called her sweet Mary.

  “Wait, both your uncles live here?” Why didn’t I know this?

  “Yeah.” Mary took out her sucker and bit down hard, cracking the solid in half. “He doesn’t really stay at his other place in the city because he can’t tuck me in.” Mary had a glimmer of joy in her eyes as she crunched down on her candy. “Uncle Brad tucks me into bed every night, and he tells me stories.”

  “Yep. Their nightly tradition.” Sarah unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car.

  “Stories about Prince Charming and his royal jewels. That’s my favorite one,” Mary added, bouncing to the door.

  I couldn’t picture Brad telling princess stories. I wondered how much of the story was about himself.

  Gag. Double gag.

  They punched in a code to the garage, and I pushed my glasses farther up my nose. Seven vehicles filled the multi-car garage. I only recognized one of them, but I could tick off the high-end types—Tesla, Range Rover, Mercedes. I assumed the joint prices of all the vehicles could have bought a small mansion.

  When we entered through the door in the garage, a room that would most likely be described as the mud room welcomed us, except it was two times the size of my bedroom with a coat rack that spanned almost one whole side of the pale-yellow wall and little drawers that were lined beneath it.

  I followed the girls as they put away their book bags and headed into the kitchen that was built for a Top Chef king. A marble island as big as my bed centered the room. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack from the ceiling. State-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances glistened against the sunlight peeking in through the floor-to-ceiling windows where I could see a massive-sized pool outside.

  Holy freaking double crap.

  Sarah pulled their industrial-sized fridge open and grabbed three juice boxes. After handing her sister one, she handed me one and smiled. “I had fun today. Besides all that weird stuff this morning.”

  I plopped on the barstool by the kitchen island, and the girls plopped down next to me. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

  Sarah being in the office had definitely broken the monotony of my day. It brought me back to my twelve-year-old self—pimples and uncontrollable hormones that caused me to cry for no reason and getting angry at the stupid things. Those days had not been fun.

  As Sarah sipped her juice box, I leaned in. “Anytime you need anything, I know we just met and stuff, but you just let me know.”

  Mary hopped off the stool and tugged at the edge of my purple silk shirt. “Wanna play Chutes and Ladders?” She slurped on her straw wedged into the juice box.

  She was breathtakingly cute. Mary’s cheeks were round, and naturally blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face. No wonder Brad carried sugar everywhere. I’d give in to this girl, too, if I were him.

  “I’d love to.”

  She reached for my hand and dr
agged me down the hall. “It’s in our game room.”

  “Game room?” I could only imagine how massive this game room would be.

  I took in a deep breath. Was I overwhelmed? Yeah, just a little.

  * * *

  Time flew by as we played Chutes and Ladders, Sorry!, Life, and a long game of Monopoly where Sarah and Mary were on one team.

  A sound of a chime echoed in the room.

  “Uncle Brad is home!” Mary jolted up from the floor and ran down the hall like a puppy waiting for her master to come home.

  I strolled leisurely with Sarah next to me, and when I entered the kitchen, I nearly fell over at the cutest sight.

  Brad had grocery bags in each hand, and Mary had her little hands wrapped around his neck and was kissing his cheek senseless.

  “Can I have ice cream? Please. Please. Please.” Each please was accented with a kiss.

  Brad’s laughter was free and natural, unlike his forced smile at the boardroom meetings. He dropped his bags on the floor and wrapped his arms around Mary. “Of course you can.” He rubbed his nose against hers and then bent down until her feet touched the ground. “But, first, you have to eat dinner.”

  I felt like I was in The Twilight Zone. Where is the stuck-up, stick-in-his-ass Brad? I was used to Brad the Brute, unmoving, unsmiling, all serious and cocky. This guy was a totally different person.

  “Thanks for picking Mary up.” His voice was genuine, without its usual annoyance. His eyes made their way to mine.

  “You’re welcome.” I teetered back and forth in my gym shoes that I had changed into in the car. The rest of my professional outfit stayed intact from earlier—purple silk top, plaid mid-ankle pencil skirt.

  Brad reached into the bag and emptied the contents on the enormous island—chicken, broccoli, pasta, milk, eggs, ice cream, and cones.

  Mary’s eyes widened as she grabbed the tub of ice cream and clutched it to her chest.

  “Mary, put it in the freezer, so it doesn’t melt.”

  A pout formed on Mary’s face, but she didn’t complain. She simply did as she had been told.